The silence that had settled on the dusty floor was shattered by Zara's words. Kelen, who until now had been hunched over like a broken mountain, slowly rose to his feet.
The dust on his knees and the harsh sunlight striking his face made him look like a weary warrior. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm brewing within him.
"I know, Zara..." Kelen's voice was heavy, yet possessed an underlying authority. "I know I shouldn't have hidden this from you. The truth about Miya was your right too. But..."
He looked directly into Zara's eyes, his gaze turning sharp and stern. "How can you say all this? You shouldn't behave this way in anger. You know the bond we share."
Kelen assumed Zara was merely lashing out in pain. But Zara didn't flinch. She stood up as well; her eyes were no longer filled with tears, but a resolve Kelen had never seen before.
"I am not angry, Kelen," Zara said in a voice that was calm yet crystal clear. Her words echoed through every corner of the house, as if summoning the very dust on the walls to bear witness.
"I am saying exactly what I truly feel. This isn't anger—it's the reality you never bothered to see." The sunlight streaming through the doorway drew a line between them.
Kelen remained speechless. He had the skill to wield a blade and the strength to win wars, but he had no shield to deflect Zara's words.
The word 'brother,' which he had held as a sacred bond, seemingly never existed in Zara's eyes. A strange glint flickered in Zara's eyes, as if she held a secret she wasn't yet ready to voice.
"Everyone knows that..." she started, but the words died on her lips. She turned her face away and said in a clipped tone, "I don't want to talk to you right now."
Kelen took a step toward her, the lines of worry deepening on his brow. "Zara, what are you trying to say? Tell me clearly," he tried to press, an unfamiliar anxiety lacing his voice.
But Zara didn't even look at him. She simply repeated with emphasis, "I said, I don't want to talk to you!" Kelen clenched his fists and then slowly released them.
He was a veteran of battlefields where the enemy was clear, but here, the silence of a loved one was defeating him. He looked at the dust settled in the corners and the cobwebs on the ceiling.
"Fine," he said, keeping his voice steady. "I spend very little time here; most of my days are passed at the border outposts. That's why it's a bit of a mess."
He gestured toward the door, where fresh air was drifting in. "Go out for a stroll; you'll feel better. In the meantime, I'll clean up the room upstairs for you."
Kelen expected her to agree, but Zara had other plans. "I'm not going anywhere," she said flatly. She moved toward an old wooden chair near the table and sat down so firmly.
It seemed as if she never intended to get up. Kelen gave her one last look, a mix of frustration and confusion in his eyes. He realized further talk was futile.
He turned and headed toward the wooden staircase with heavy steps. The groaning of the stairs—Creak... Creak...—rang out clearly in the silence, as if the house itself were mourning the distance between them.
He ascended to the upper floor, leaving Zara alone in the dusty, quiet hall. Zara's gaze followed the sound of Kelen's heavy boots until he vanished into the shadows of the upper stairs.
As soon as the door upstairs clicked shut, Zara's composure finally splintered. She exhaled a long, sharp breath and leaned toward the table.
She spread both her arms flat across the dusty wooden surface and tucked her neck between them, seeking a sense of refuge. "Idiot..." a whisper escaped her lips, echoing through the hollow hall.
In a fit of frustration, she struck her elbow against the hard wood—Thud!—but the physical sting was nothing compared to the irritation she felt at Kelen's utter obliviousness.
She buried her face completely in her palms. "Complete fool... he understands nothing," she began to repeat the word 'fool' like a mantra, as if it could somehow lighten the weight in her heart.
Kelen's protective behavior didn't feel like safety to her; it felt like suffocation. What he considered a brother's duty, Zara saw as a total disregard for her true feelings.
Gradually, her muttering faded. She stacked one palm over the other, creating a makeshift pillow to rest her head upon. She kept her face turned toward the stairs, perhaps subconsciously waiting for him to descend.
The waning afternoon sun filtered through the window, casting a golden hue over her disheveled hair. The heavy silence of the house, the scent of dust, and the mental exhaustion combined.
The word 'idiot' died on her lips as she drifted into a deep sleep right there in the chair. In that moment, the only sound in the ancient house was the rhythmic whisper of her breath.
The reign of dust in the upper rooms had finally come to an end. Kelen had efficiently replaced the old, dingy curtains with fresh fabric. He changed the bedsheets.
And meticulously arranged the scattered items back into their proper places. Only when the air in the room felt fresh did he descend with a heavy heart.
As he moved down the stairs, his gaze naturally drifted toward the chair where Zara sat. She was asleep. Kelen controlled the thud of his heavy boots as much as possible.
Approaching her without a sound—Ghost-like. He extended his hand, his fingers nearly brushing her shoulder to wake her, but something suddenly gave him pause. He pulled his hand back.
Perhaps he wanted to grant a few more moments of peace to that innocent, resting face. He turned silently and headed toward the kitchen.
Before long, the warmth of the hearth and the savory aroma of food breathed life into the somber atmosphere of the house. After clearing the table and setting the meal.
He took a seat in the chair beside Zara. This time, he did not hesitate. He placed his hand gently on her shoulder and called out in a low voice, "Zara... wake up."
Zara's eyelids fluttered. The last blurred image in her mind had been the sight of Kelen's back as he ascended the stairs. But as her eyes fully opened, she found herself face-to-face with him.
Kelen was sitting right beside her, his hand still resting on her shoulder like a protective shield. The golden afternoon light had mellowed into a deep orange, softening the harsh lines of Kelen's face.
Zara remained silent, simply watching him, feeling the very presence she had called 'idiot,' yet the one she could never truly pull away from.